It was she
She was a simple farmer’s girl, with a simple life in a simple world.
She was bright as a star, sharp as a pin and worked really hard.
On a bright sunny day, she went to the stable to feed the horses hay
And found her way to the pen where the sheep of the farm lay.
“To the pasture”, said the flock, and took her with, as they began to walk.
As a mirthful child might, she frolicked about the sheep with no shepherd in sight.
Time passed as night fell, the vile wolves began to shed their woolly veil.
The gentle gait and silent bray gave way to a heinous prowl and a piercing howl.
With no light for many a mile, she shunned her fears with the prettiest smile.
The angelic face in her diminutive size stared right back at the frightening red eyes.
Albeit a scratch but no real flaw, she dodged and fought the relentless claw.
Surviving, she had no hand in help, until there was one involuntary yelp.
The shriek rode the wind to a Royal Knight’s ear who valiantly mistook it for fear.
He set out on his high horse to answer the call from the other side of the grassy knoll.
Wielding his sword that led his way, in his unblemished armor he entered the fray.
He found himself amidst a battle with giant wolves seen past the haze and mist.
He swung and missed and scampered around, until he was struck and thrown down to the ground
He was outfought, outnumbered and outdone; to his mind, the wolves had already won.
Tired and torn, he stood no chance in his impending surrender to circumstance.
Bruised and battered in this lost lonely land, it was she, who then held his hand.